


Mirrors

by aniay



Series: Secrets and lies [3]
Category: Transformers, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, Dark, Gen, Plug and Play, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-29
Updated: 2011-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-19 21:53:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aniay/pseuds/aniay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As times goes by Jazz's reflection changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> It's in the same verse as my Blue/Wheeljack(Pain) and Bee/Starscream(Last chance) ficcie. Spawned by ultharkitty 's idea that some insight into Jazz's head would be nice before going into details of Prime/Jazz which is not yet done in electronic version  
> Betaed by femme4jack.

Every time Jazz looked into the mirror his reflection changed.

He remembered looking into it at the beginning of the war, proud of who he was, Autobot brand freshly painted, standing out on white as he  
puffed his chest proudly.

He remembered the thrill of missions well done and the warm feeling that came whenever Prime praised him, and the excitement when he became Prime's officer.

He remembered gazing in the mirror after failed missions, his fingers skimming the reflective surface as he traced the dents and  
gauges, welds and patches.

As time went by, there was more and more failed missions, and Jazz often blamed himself. How could he let his friends down? His friends,  
subordinates... but then Prime’s words somehow always managed to lift his spirit, make him believe that next time it would be better.

Time passed, however, and Prime’s words touched his spirit less and less, never reading as deep as his spark, and the fire of confidence in his own abilities waned.

As time went by, Jazz saw a more hollow face each time he looked in the mirror, the vibrant blue of his optics fading. Yet every morning he fixed his features into a lighthearted smile, creating an override of his emotional circuits, and applying a behavioral program that would make his features and vocalizer work as though he were still the old Jazz. But his optics gave him away. Others loved his new look when he put on the visor, while he hated every moment of it.

He didn’t remember the exact moment when his spark began to hurt, when he started to greet his reflection with disgust; it was inevitable.  
One way or another, it had happened.

Because Prime no longer praised him, and when he did it wasn’t the gentle voice of someone who cared for his people. The voice, while  
seemingly the same, lost the power to make Jazz believe that this cursed war would ever end. It lost the power to make Jazz believe in himself.

With time, Prime succumbed to his insanity. Jazz didn’t know what caused it, but he supposed it was something gradual, the poison of war  
seeping drop by drop into every-day energon. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was a soldier, and soldiers do what leaders order them to.

Every mission that Prime ordered was more insane than the previous one, and Jazz threw himself into them, subconsciously hoping to die, to not have to look anymore.

Whenever he failed, was caught or hurt, he welcomed the pain with relief. After all, he deserved it.

But then came the fateful the meeting when Prime commanded Mirage to infiltrate a supposed Decepticon weapons factory which, as Jazz’s investigation proved, was actually a protoform storage facility. Jazz wanted to decline, to fight the order, or at least go himself instead.

Prime suggested that maybe his third in command wasn’t as loyal as it looked, and Mirage was soldier enough to not question his orders.

When Mirage came back nearly offline and with the awareness of what he had done, Prime ordered a wipe of his short term memory. With his spark hurting like never before, Jazz followed the order, wiping out any hint of protoforms from Mirage’s files.

[you destroyed a Decepticon weapons factory] Mirage’s files now said; And only Jazz knew.

After that Jazz smashed the mirror, afraid he would want to offline the mech he saw there.

But at least he knew he couldn’t die anymore, not when his mechs needed him. Even if he was just a worthless piece of scrap, he couldn’t  
leave them alone.


End file.
